One Love - Phantom of the Paradise
by Freeflare
Summary: Winslow wakes up to find that he's not in fact dead, but neither is Swan. Phoenix is gone along with Winslow's goal to have her sing his music. (This takes place after the events of the Phantom of the Paradise plot, with some changes.)
1. Chapter 1

The first conscious thought that came to his numb mind was a simple name. Phoenix.

The next thought was unfortunately far less pleasant. Pain. Pain that burned and seared all through the left side of his chest and shoulder. His hand instinctively moved to clutch at the wound there. He was surprised to feel gauze under his fingers instead of the sickeningly warm blood he expected. He forced his eye open and turned his head a bit to get a better look. His vision was blurry and out of focus so he rapidly blinked his eye in an attempt to see clearer. After a moment or two it seemed to work and he found that not only was his stab wound carefully bandaged, but he wasn't in The Paradise. For a moment his pain was replaced with with confusion and panic. He looked around him seeing he was in a rather fancy bedroom wearing silky pajamas. Upon the realization that he was no longer covered with his usual leather costume he reached up to touch his face. His helmet was gone too. This sent his already pounding heartbeat skyrocketing.

Where was he? Who brought him here? Why wasn't he dead? Where was Phoenix?

These and many more questions flooded his mind to the point of preventing him from even noticing a knock at the door.

"Winslow."

The sound of his own name snapped him back to reality, however recognizing the owner of the voice did nothing to ease his panic. Winslow turned his head quickly to look at the short blonde man standing in the doorway. He opened his mouth to for the astonished exclamation of the man's name, but all that came out was a terrible cross between a squawk and a gurgle. He put a hand over his mouth surprised by the sound he made.

Swan watched Winslow with a neutral expression. "Your voicebox is safe and sound, Winslow."

Winslow stared at Swan as he attempted to sort through the questions swirling in his head that all demanded to be asked at once. If he could even voice them that is. His breathing was quick and shallow. He made to pull himself out of bed and cover the right side of his face at the same time. The sharp bolt of pain that shot through his shoulder and arm abruptly stopped him though.

"Careful now, Winslow. We wouldn't want you to rip any of those stitches now would we." Swan kept his even tone.

Winslow grimaced closing his eye against the throbbing wound. He gripped the sheets with his free hand waiting for the intensity of the pain to ease. Once it did he opened his eye again to see Swan was standing at the end of his bed watching him still.

"I'm sure you have some questions." Swan took out a notepad and a pencil from his pocket. He set them in Winslow's lap. "Write them down."

Winslow forced himself to take a few deep breaths before carefully righting himself. He picked up the paper and pencil not taking his eye off the man. He considered what question to ask first and chose the most pressing one first.

 _Why am I still alive?_

He handed Swan the notepad.

Swan read the question and chuckled softly as if something about the sheer confusion on Winslow's face was funny. "It's really quite a complicated explanation I'm afraid. But you see, you're alive because I'm alive. I'm sure that was your next question, Winslow."

Winslow pressed his lips together. Swan was right. He made no attempt to say anthing knowing it wouldn't do any good anyway and just listened to Swan for the explanation to this situation.

"Now you know I cannot die. Though you did make a valiant attempt. However thanks to my personal doctor I was mended without too much trouble."

Winslow creased his eyebrows and frowned. How could a doctor save Swan after he'd set fire to that tape that kept him alive?

As if Swan could read Winslow's thoughts he pointed a finger in the air. "My contracts were damaged, yes. But also saved. The important ones anyway." He looked Winslow directly in the eye, "You almost succeeded, Winslow. You came so close to destroying everything I had worked for."

There was a certain edge to Swan's voice that caused Winslow to tense like he was expecting Swan to launch himself onto the bed and strangle him. Instead he saw Swan relax his shoulders and continue.

"In a way I have to admire your dedication and effort. But I want you to keep something in mind, Winslow. I could've let you bleed to death on that stage. I could've left you there to die a miserable and lonely death. But instead I had you brought here to the Swanage and had you treated by my own doctor. You're alive because I wanted you to be." Swan didn't look away from Winslow as he said this, making sure his point was made as clear as possible.

Winslow didn't look away from Swan either. Without his costume, his helmet or his physical health he felt unbelievably vulnerable. Which was the worst thing he could feel in the presence of the man who brought it all about. He swallowed the lump that had developed in his throat hoping he wasn't making his discomfort too noticeable.

"Now, you are to stay in this bed until you've healed. Don't try to run off, you'll only end up hurting yourself. I'll have Dr. Peters come in to give you some medicine and check your stitches." Swan turned to leave.

Winslow's eye widened at the thought of having some stranger see him with out his mask at least. He shook his head making an urgent sound in his throat.

Swan paused and looked at him. "Come now, Winslow. You're a smart man. You and I both know that you need medical help to heal and I highly doubt you'd want to be sent to a hospital."

Winslow froze knowing Swan was right again. He couldn't go to a public hospital. Not when he was considered to be a dead criminal. He closed his mouth reluctantly and snatched the notepad up again. He quickly wrote down another important question and pushed toward Swan.

Swan picked it up reading it before tossing it back down on the bed. "Phoenix isn't here, Winslow. She left The Paradise the same night you tried to kill me."

Winslow wasn't sure how to take this. In one way he was glad she had gotten away from The Paradise and, more importantly, Swan. On the other hand his heart sank knowing she was gone and likely did not want to be found by anyone. He couldn't blame her.

"Rest, Dr. Peters will be in shortly." Swan said and left without another word.

Winslow stared at the closed door left alone with his muddled thoughts. If he wasn't injured he would've likely ignored what Swan told him and run straight out the door. But he knew better than to try right now. He blinked as a new question popped into his head. How long had he been unconscious? Swan was completely healed by all appearances. Was rapid healing part of being immortal?

He shook his head to dismiss these thoughts for now. He didn't have enough energy to be as worried as he should be. He would just have to give his battered body time to heal, then he would figure things out.


	2. Chapter 2

Winslow paced around the small room he'd been cooped up in for far too long. In all honesty, he really wasn't sure how many days or even weeks he had been laying in bed recuperating, but it had at least seemed like a long time. He was tired of being stuck in bed and having Dr. Peters give him pills to choke down.

The bright side was that he was able to move around without so much pain. He had a good bit of strength back, but he knew he wasn't fully healed just yet. No more IVs. He had been instructed not to wear his tight leather costume until his wounds had healed up. He felt uncomfortably naked with it. Swan had given him his helmet back a few days ago though so at least he wasn't completely exposed. He had spent his time by worrying about Phoenix and coming up with so many theories as to why Swan even bothered to keep him alive that he had increased his anxiety more than eased it.

Winslow huffed and turned to the door. He had to give himself a break from his own thoughts and he wouldn't be able to do that in here. He went over to the door and twisted the knob raising his eyebrow when he found it wasn't locked like he had thought it would be. He opened the door and peered out with his good eye to see if there was anyone nearby. But the hall was empty, not even any of Swan's guards were around. He opened the door the rest of the way and paused. He glanced down at the pajamas he was forced to wear still and decided to wear his cape as a sort of barrier around himself. Now that he felt a little better Winslow quietly wandered down the hall. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, he was simply bored. He went over to a window looking outside to see a lush backyard full of well kept trees and flowers bathed in warm sunlight. It almost seemed pleasant. He had no desire to venture outside though. Not yet anyway.

His bare feet carried him all through the hall and down the grand stairs to the main floor. He stared at the elaborate carvings that decorated every accent of the place. Gold trims and dark wood. Truly it all showed the luxurious life that Swan lived. It was also extremely deceiving, Winslow thought. He pressed his lips together as he reached the main hall when the large front doors. He remembered quite distinctly when he first entered through them. He could almost hear the mix of different female voices rehearsing their performances of his Faust. He shook his head also shaking off the chill that ran up his spine. He made himself move on to the next room which turned out to be the music room.

There were several different kinds of instruments displayed on the walls and such. Winslow took immediate notice of the keyboard that was standing against the far wall. He glanced behind him and still saw no one so he shut the door behind him. He went over to the keyboard and lightly traced his fingers along the keys. He missed making music and working on writing down his ideas for new works. He sat down at the keyboard and started playing, he played Faust almost instinctively. He knew it by heart after all. He shut his eye allowing himself to get lost in the notes and chords of his masterpiece. He couldn't bring himself to attempt to sing the words without his voice box, and even then he didn't think it would sound right. The sound of his cantata was soothing to him. It let him forget about what had happened and the confusion of his current situation for a moment.

The sound of clapping brought Winslow crashing back to reality. He let out an involuntary squawk of surprise and whipped around in his seat staring wide eyed at the person who now stood just inside the room. It took a moment for him to get past his own heart hammering in his ears, but once he did he realized something very important. His previously unnoticed one person audience was Beef.

Beef stood frozen in place at the sudden reaction to his applause. "Sorry...I heard you playing down the hall and-" he paused as a realization of his own came about. "You!"

Winslow got up rather slowly, keeping an eye on the man before him. Unlike when he'd last seen the performer Beef was more casually dressed. He still wore a bedazzled crop top though. However that wasn't important. What was important was how Beef was standing there still alive and seemingly unscathed.

"You're the creep that threatened me in the shower!" Beef pointed his finger at the masked man. He didn't make any attempt to get closer to him as he preferred not to get into a fight with him. When it was obvious that the odd individual wasn't going to say anything he lowered his arm. "...What're you doing here anyway?"

Winslow opened his mouth before reminding himself that he had no way of speaking. He closed his mouth and slowly raised his arms to gesture at his throat while shaking his head.

Beef watched him and got the idea. "You can't speak all of a sudden?"

Winslow shook his head and made an attempt to point out that his voice box was missing. But he figured that since that wasn't exactly something Beef likely noticed during their last encounter he gave up. He glanced around for some method of writing down his response, but there was nothing suitable to use.

Beef caught onto this as well and clicked his tongue, "Come with me." He headed out of the room expecting Winslow to follow him. Curiosity had outweighed fear and shock by this point. He had no idea who this guy was, but he definitely seemed interesting. Plus he could play piano pretty damn well. And there must be some important reason why Swan would let someone like that stay in his mansion.

Winslow stared after Beef. He was hesitant to follow him, but did so. He kept his cape wrapped around himself. He was totally out of his element here on more than one level. Why was Beef treating him with a certain amount of friendliness after what he'd done to him? To be quite honest, without the threat of another performer stealing his music he felt guilty for what he had done. He had been so consumed with rage that he didn't even think his plan to kill Beef through.

Beef lead Winslow to the kitchen and rummaged around. He found a notepad and a pencil and held them up victoriously. "There." he set them down on the table in front of Winslow and sat down.

Winslow looked from the pad to Beef seeing the expectant look on his face. He sat down across from him and started writing. He pushed what he'd written over to Beef.

 _How are you alive after your performance on opening night?_

Beef read the question and shrugged, "That neon sign just barely missed me. It still shocked the hell outta me, but I spent a week or so here with Swan's doctor patching me up."

Winslow creased his eyebrow and scribbled on the notepad.

 _Swan brought me here and had his doctor care for me too._

Beef raised his eyebrows, "Well, I guess that explains why you're here then." He eyed Winslow a moment, "You're the one that tried to kill me with that lightning bolt, right?"

Winslow pressed his lips together and nodded.

 _You took my song and messed it up. I warned you that Phoenix was the only one who could sing it._

Beef frowned reading this and huffed, "I know. It's not like I had a choice, you know. Philbin wasn't gonna let me just waltz out of The Paradise on opening night."

Winslow blinked hearing this and thought for a moment. He supposed that with everything that happened what he had tried to do didn't matter so much anymore. He hesitated before writing again.

 _I'm sorry. I thought you were ignoring what I said._

"Believe me, honey. If it had been up to me I would've been in Cincinnati by the time the curtains opened." Beef waved a hand and looked at Winslow again. He could clearly see the guilt written on his face, even with the mask. "Listen, why don't you tell me why you tried to kill me."

Winslow looked at Beef and nodded slowly. He owed Beef that at least. He did his best to explain that Swan had told him that Phoenix would perform his Faust, but had apparently stolen it again to have Beef perform it in his own way.

Beef read Winslow's explanation as he wrote it and frowned. "Well...I guess that explains it." He rested his chin in his hand and rested his elbow on the edge of the table. "So what's your name? You don't just go by...The Phantom or something, do you?"

Winslow considered this, he didn't really see much harm in telling Beef his name. He was bound to find out anyway. It would likely still surprise him a bit to find that he was talking to a dead man though.

 _I'm Winslow Leach. The composer._

Beef creased his eyebrows at this and looked at Winslow, "So I guess you're not as dead as the newspapers said, huh?" He saw Winslow shake his head and pressed his lips together a moment, he stood up turning away from him. "Coffee?"

Winslow nodded when Beef looked over his shoulder at him. He had had quite enough of the oatmeal he'd been given by Dr. Peters.

"If you and Swan have caused each other so much trouble, how come he brought you here to fix up?" Beef returned to the table with two fresh mugs of coffee. He set one down in front of Winslow and sat back down with his own.

Winslow shrugged, he'd tried to reason this very question out numerous times since he'd woken up and still didn't have a clear answer. Aside from what Swan told him at least. But Swan was always so vague.

Beef clicked his tongue and added cream and sugar to his coffee. "Well, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other until Swan tells us what he's got planned." He raised his eyebrows at Winslow.

Winslow gave a small nod of his head. He was actually dreading whatever it was Swan wanted from him. It couldn't possibly be good. He held the hot coffee between his hands rather enjoying the warmth from it.

"What's with the mask thing?" Beef gestured at Winslow's helmet curiously as he sipped his coffee.

Winslow was brought out of his thoughts hearing this. He looked at Beef unsurely. A new kind of dread settled in his stomach at the thought of Beef seeing his mangled face. Surely the man would be horrified by it. After all Beef always seemed to spend a lot of time making himself look good.

But why did he care so much about how Beef would react to his face? Maybe he was afraid to lose the one person who seemed to want to be around him now.

Beef noticed how Winslow seemed to zone out and creased his eyebrows. "Listen...you don't have to tell me." he put a hand on Winslow's arm trying to reassure him. He certainly looked taken aback by his question.

Winslow tensed instinctively under the man's touch and blinked looking down at Beef's hand. He slowly moved his arm away and focused his attention on the steam rolling out of his mug.

Beef wasn't really fazed by this reaction as he took his hand back. Winslow didn't seem to be too keen on physical contact. He was sure there was a valid reason why. He'd have to work on gaining the other man's trust is all. He offered a friendly smile, "My room's on the second floor down the hall on the left. I'm in there most of the time so if you wanna talk...or something." He waved his hand.

Winslow noticed Beef's attempt to cover up his mistake of mentioning talking to someone who currently couldn't. His lips twitched in the hint of a smile and he watched Beef leave the kitchen having finished his coffee. He looked back down at the dark liquid before him and stared at his reflection.

This was going to be quite an odd experience.


	3. Chapter 3

The majority of the day was spent rather quietly. Winslow kept to his room because, surprisingly enough, all it took was for him to run into someone he wasn't expecting to see to get him to reconsider venturing out. On the other hand he couldn't say it was a bad thing that Beef was in the Swanage with him. He wasn't the nuisance that he had first thought he was.

Winslow stood in front of the large mirror in the bathroom attached to his room. He stared at himself as he went over the events of the day. After a bit the mirror fogged up from the hot water running in the shower. He was thankful for this since he had to take his helmet off before he could get in. And he most definitely didn't want to see the maimed flesh of the right side of his face. He still hesitated in removing it though. He felt extremely vulnerable without it even if he was alone. He set the helmet on the counter top of the sink and started to unbutton his pajama shirt. He paused and glanced at the door, he jiggled the handle to ensure, one more time, that it wasn't locked. He couldn't help being a bit paranoid about doors suddenly being locked from the outside. Swan had instilled this fear after all. He even had to peek outside every so often to be sure a brick wall hadn't been built either.

He sighed once he had eased his mind and continued undressing. He slipped into the shower and shut his eye as the hot water softly fell on him. It was one of the few soothing things to him. The warmth of the water helped him relax and the rhythmic sound of the drops were pleasant to listen to. It was certainly better than the silence that he was surrounded by just sitting in his room alone. Another plus was that he didn't have to worry about his bandages too much now. They were still there and his stitches still hurt if he moved wrong, but the pain was far less.

Winslow spent just a little more time standing still under the spray of the water before he actually washed his hair and body.

After he was done and the water had started to turn cold Winslow got out. He dried off and put on a clean pair of pajamas, still not quite use to the distinct lack of leather. He slipped on his helmet and opened the door to return to his room. He immediately noticed something different once he looked into the darkened room. His voice box was laid on his bed. Someone had snuck in while he was showering. But that didn't matter very much as he had his voice back. Winslow went over to it and put the strap of it over his head. He placed the box gently against his chest and switched it on. He hummed softly and gave a small grin hearing the robotic noise that emitted from it as well as the red and blue lights. It wasn't a pleasant sound even to him, but at least he could speak again.

As Winslow absently smoothed a hand over the metal box a thought popped into his mind that caught him off guard. What good was having a voice again if there was no reason to use it?

He blinked his eye and glanced around his room. He could think of a whole list of people he would rather not speak to. However there was at least one who he felt might not take his presence negatively.

He wasn't entirely sure what possessed him to do so, but Winslow soon found himself standing in front of Beef's door. He glanced back toward his own room wondering if this really was as good an idea as it had seemed a moment ago. He tentatively raised his hand and knocked on the door. He was promptly greeted by the golden haired man who didn't necessarily seem shocked at finding Winslow standing there.

"Well, hi. Come in." Beef gestured to Winslow and stepped aside to let him enter the room.

Winslow slowly stepped into the room shutting the door behind him. He glanced around taking in all the colorful and bright things that decorated the walls. As expected, Beef had a large and well lit vanity filled with various make up. Every piece of clothing that was either hung up or tossed onto the floor was bedazzled or shiny in some way. Beef himself had painted an astrological sign on his cheek today it seemed.

"So's that what you use to talk with?" Beef pointed with a little brush at the box resting against Winslow's chest.

Winslow lightly touched his voice box and nodded, "Yes." He noticed how Beef seemed to be caught off guard by the robotic growl it produced.

Beef fiddled with the brush in his hands glancing between the device and Winslow. "Huh..." He set the brush down on his vanity, "You can sit down if you want."

Winslow looked to the red velvet day bed that was equally covered in Beef's clothes. He moved enough of the clothing to make a space for him to sit before doing so.

"You usually have on black make up, right?" Beef put a thoughtful finger to his chin as he looked at the other man.

Winslow looked up at Beef, "Yes...but I don't have any." He did find that the lack of the make up he put around his left eye and on his lips was odd to him. But it wasn't like he could really ask for that.

Beef perked up and rummaged through the make up that littered the surface of his vanity. "I've got some. I can help you apply it too-"

"No." Winslow replied rather quickly. He saw Beef pause and turn to look at him again. He felt a small bit of guilt knowing he was just trying to help. He pressed his lips together glancing down. "Uh..."

"Cause of the mask thing, huh?" Beef offered and saw Winslow nod. He sighed, "It's fine. You can borrow whatever make up you want anyway." He picked up the clothes on the other side of the day bed and tossed them into the corner so he could sit beside Winslow.

Winslow noticed how Beef chose to sit on his left so he could still see him without turning his head at an odd angle. He messed with his finger a bit trying to think of something to say. He wasn't good with small talk and a situation like this didn't make it any easier. "Thank you."

Beef waved his hand, "Don't mention it, hun."

Winslow blinked at the nickname. He was sure Beef was using it rather offhandedly and he gave practically everyone some kind of nickname. But still.

"There's not much to do around here, is there?"

Winslow shook his head, "Especially when you're bedridden."

"Don't I know it." Beef turned his head to Winslow, "You said you were stabbed? That's why you were brought here?"

Winslow nodded, he hadn't told Beef every detail and he honestly didn't feel comfortable in telling him how the stab wound came about.

Beef slowly nodded his head, mimicking Winslow. "Right..." he huffed turning his whole body to face Winslow. "You're gonna have to talk to me, you know."

Winslow looked at Beef uncertain of how to respond to that. "I...I know..."

"Good." Beef leaned back making himself more comfortable, "So start."

Winslow blinked staring at the confident man before him. What the hell was he suppose to do now? And why couldn't he just tell Beef the reason why he didn't want to take his helmet off? Or how he got the stab wound in his chest? Well, obviously...he just...couldn't.

Beef raised his eyebrows seeing how much like a deer in the headlights Winslow looked right now. He sat up and scooted over to Winslow. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to ground him. "Listen, Winslow. I'm just trying to let you know that you can talk to me. You said Swan stole your music and destroyed your life? I'm just letting you know that...I'm here." He shrugged hoping this helped in some way.

Now Winslow definitely felt lost. He continued to stare at Beef like he was from another planet. He didn't even know how to approach this. He didn't even mind the hand resting on his shoulder.

A man he had previously despised and even attempted to kill was sitting here offering to listen to him. He opened his mouth for a moment before shutting it. He pulled himself out of his daze and forced himself to form a coherent sentence. "I don't...know if I can tell you." he took a deep breath, "It's..." He raised a hand as if he could express to Beef that he was at a complete loss for how to handle this situation. But he was also caught off guard by the warmth that seemed to rise in his chest at Beef's kindness.

Beef furrowed his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. He thought for a moment before putting his hands on his lap, "Okay, how 'bout we start small? We'll tell each other about ourselves. I'll start." He looked up at the ceiling as he considered where to start. "I was born and raised in Cincinatti. I'm an only child and I've been performing for more years than I can count."

Winslow looked at Beef listening to him. He knew it was his turn when Beef went quiet and looked at him with interest. "I...grew up in Pennsylvania. I'm an only child too, I've written music...ever since I can remember."

Beef smiled brightly, pleased that Winslow was opening up slowly but surely. He continued to ask questions that he hoped would be of interest to the other. They ended up spending quite a bit of time talking about music and several other subjects. It turns out that they had more in common than either of them would have thought.

However, something that Winslow didn't tell Beef was that he was slowly starting to find that spending time with Beef was almost therapeutic. After being alone and hiding in the shadows for such a long time it was a very refreshing thing to be able to have a casual conversation.

At a few points in their conversation Beef even got a small smile out of the masked man.


	4. Chapter 4

About a week had passed since Winslow and Beef formally met. They had gotten use to each other's presence and quirks by now. At least for the most part.

For one thing, Beef knew that for however much Winslow seemed to like talking with him he also preferred to spend a majority of his time writing and playing his music. Not that he minded. As a matter of fact he enjoyed listening to Winslow play while he went about his routine.

There were other little things he'd noticed as well. Like how at the mention of Thursday Winslow would visibly flinch or tense up. Or how he would hear the sound of a doorknob jiggling every so often where ever Winslow was at the time. Or how on edge Winslow was whenever there were some dark clouds overhead.

Beef was pretty curious as to the reason behind these quirks of Winslow's, but he knew better than to pry. The man was very introverted and a bit odd, even by Beef's standards. There must be a reason behind it, probably something that Winslow didn't look on in a positive light.

Beef was occupying his early afternoon by exercising his voice. Just because he didn't have a show didn't mean he was going to let his talent go to waste being cooped up here. He had already taken a look at his horoscope for the day and applied a little astrological symbol to his cheek accordingly. He fully believed that it would help bring about positive vibes. Or at the very least it looked cute.

The pattering of rain against the roof and his window made him stop singing for a moment. He hadn't been paying attention to what the weather looked like, but just a glance out his window showed that it was pouring out there. He really didn't mind except for remembering how weather like this seemed to affect Winslow. He frowned and went to his door peering out into the hallway to see if he could spot the lanky man. He glanced around as he walked down the hall to the large staircase, "Winslow?" That the door of Winslow's room was open, but it didn't look like he was in there.

A low roll of thunder echoed softly through the mansion and Beef bit his thumb becoming more concerned by the other man's absence. Beef went down the stairs and continued his search. It was in moments like this where he wasn't so thrilled with how big this place was.

Winslow stood in the corner of the instrument room with his eye shut tight. He had his cape wrapped snuggly around him like some kind of shield against the deep set anxiety the storm brought on. He hadn't even noticed its presence until the rain started to tap against the window. He had considered making himself go back to his room, but that was a dark place even with the light on. That certainly wouldn't help. Plus he couldn't quite get his legs to carry him anywhere. The fact that he was in a place where past trauma had occurred was making his fear ten times worse.

He tried to take deep breaths and remind himself that he was in a well lit room and the storm wasn't that bad. It was just some heavy rain, the thunder didn't even sound that clo-

Winslow didn't get to finish his reassuring thought as lightning flashed outside followed swiftly by a boom of thunder that he felt through the walls he was pressed against. He jolted and immediately slid down the wall till he was sitting on the floor. He pulled his legs in wrapping his cape completely around himself and buried his face in his knees. His heart hammered against his chest and his breathing came in quick, shallow breaths.

Beef jumped a bit himself at the loud crack of thunder. He headed to the last room where he figured Winslow would likely be. "Winslow?" he stepped inside the music room and glanced around not seeing him in here either. He sighed and was about to turn around and look somewhere else when he noticed a bit of movement from beside the sofa. He creased his eyebrows walking over to find the dark figure balled up in the corner. "Winslow." he knelt down in front of him.

Winslow vaguely recognized the presence of Beef in the room, but was too caught up in his own mind to react to him. He heard him say his name again, this time right in front of him, and raised his head a bit to look at the man with his good eye. He noticed a look of concern on his face and actually found himself relaxing slightly. He wasn't alone in here. He wasn't trapped. He wasn't in danger.

"Are you alright?" Beef saw how the form before him trembled ever so slightly and how Winslow's eye shifted around like he was trying to keep an eye on everything at once.

Winslow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded slowly. He'd be fine, he just had to remind himself that the storm was just a storm. He was alright. His last experience involving a storm meant nothing now.

Beef frowned a bit, he wasn't buying the silent reply. People who were curled up tightly in a corner looking like a kicked puppy weren't usually that okay. "Is the storm scaring you that bad?" there was no judgement or mocking in his tone. Just concern.

"I'm fine, Beef. I just-" another sharp crack of thunder cut Winslow off once again. This time the lights throughout the mansion were snuffed out leaving everything in darkness. Winslow froze and scanned the empty void around him. He practically held his breath as his heart pounded even faster. This reminded him far too much of when he was locked up in the studio writing music day and night for Swan. Being trapped in there and utterly alone, no concept of how much time had passed. He hadn't fully realized how much he had hated that time frame until it was pulled to the forefront of his thoughts.

Beef blinked trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark. He lightly bit his lip hearing Winslow's shallow, hoarse breathing and knowing how terrible this must be to him. "Winslow." he very slowly reached his hand out until he felt Winslow's leather clad arm and gently squeezed it. "It's okay. The power just went out, it should come back on soon." he hoped this would be the case for Winslow's sake. "How 'bout we find some light, hm?"

Winslow so appreciated the soft tone Beef was using with him right now. It pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment. He shuttered and let out the breath he had been subconsciously holding. "...I have...candles. In my room." candles had been his only source of light while rewriting Faust in the recording studio. The warm flame they held was oddly comforting to him then and now.

Beef nodded, "Okay." He stood up and guided Winslow up with him so he would know where he was. He could feel how Winslow squeezed his hand as he lead him along. If this wasn't such a traumatic thing for him Beef would've thought it was adorable.

Winslow forced himself to focus on just breathing while he followed Beef's lead. The physical contact helped remind him that he wasn't locked up somewhere. He wasn't going to be drugged or have a brick wall encase him in a small space.

However, the next echoing boom of thunder and lightning promptly shattered any small amount of reassurance Winslow was grasping onto. He shrieked and hunched over as he covered his head with his arms instinctively.

If the thunder hadn't caused Beef to jump then Winslow's robotic shriek certainly had. He put a hand on his chest to calm his heart and turned to look at Winslow. A quick flash of lightning lit the hall up enough for him to see the cowering man. He furrowed his eyebrows feeling quite sympathetic for Winslow and whatever horrifying things must be tormenting him. He knew the jest of what he must have experienced from what Winslow had told him. But he was sure that he hadn't been told every detail.

Beef moved over to Winslow and put a hand on either of his shoulders carefully pulling him into a, hopefully, comforting embrace.

Winslow snapped his eye open feeling Beef hug him. He turned his head to get a better look at Beef, but only felt his curls brush against his jaw and left cheek. He opened his mouth a bit unsure of what to say or do. The warmth and strength of Beef's arms surrounding him brought a certain level of comfort and reassurance he hadn't had in a very long time. It was...unexpected to say the least. He slowly placed his palms flat against Beef's back.

Beef stayed like this until he noticed a difference in Winslow's breathing. Once it seemed like he had calmed ever so slightly he pulled back, but kept the lean man within arm's length. "Little better?"

Winslow tried to see Beef's face in the dark, he was tempted to just nod but he knew Beef wouldn't be able to see that. "...Yes." His voice box briefly lit up the small space in front of him and he saw Beef give a proud smile. He felt his hand slide down his arm to hold his own.

"Let's get those candles." Beef continued leading Winslow up the stairs and down the hall into his room. Once they entered the equally dark room he released Winslow's hand for a moment to search for the candles he spoke of.

Winslow froze in place at the loss of contact. He scanned the room trying to pick up on the slightest of motion to let him know where the other was.

"Where do you keep 'em?" Beef caught the leg of a desk with his foot and muttered a choice word that was too soft for Winslow to hear.

Winslow turned his head in the direction Beef's voice came from. "Closet." he had to keep himself from slipping back into his memories right now. He listened to the sound of Beef opening the closet door and rummaging around until he heard a triumphant exclamation.

"Ah ha!" Beef emerged, more cautiously, from the closet with a case of pillar candles. He felt his way back over to the desk and set a few on it before lighting them. Once there was a soft light spreading throughout the room he turned to Winslow putting his hands on his hips. "Better?"

As soon as Beef lit the first candle Winslow relaxed quite a bit. He was still on edge, but it helped immensely. He looked at Beef, now that he could actually see him, and nodded. "Better."


End file.
